


The Possessive Pronoun

by theproblematique



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:51:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theproblematique/pseuds/theproblematique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or "That Which Belongs To Me". One, simple word, burning bright in his mind as though someone had carved it there with a hot poker, wouldn't let him think about anything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Possessive Pronoun

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [The Possessive Pronoun (Притяжательное местоимение)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672131) by [perfection_8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfection_8/pseuds/perfection_8)



 

* * *

_Mine_.

The word was making his blood boil.

Jim had never really liked using the possessive pronoun when talking about another person. He tended not to imagine things (let alone _people_ ) as belonging to him. In fact, he felt rather uncomfortable at the thought of ownership in that sense. He simply didn't work like that. Having fun with someone, feeling _good_ was the goal. Not getting emotionally involved and suddenly becoming irrationally demanding or jealous or any of that shit. Plus, the complications that came with commitments were for people in _relationships_.

Even with his Starship… Jim liked saying it was his ship, of course (especially when shouting at someone, that was always awesome) but he never thought of the crew as his _property_ , for example. He preferred to think of himself as being a part of something, something grand and noble and kind of amazing that was the USS Enterprise and everything (and everyone) in it.

And it was for all of these reasons that he was quite surprised when it happened.

The word, the one, simple word, burning bright in his mind as though someone had carved it there with a hot poker, it didn't let him think about anything else. It echoed loudly in his head… not _yours_ …

"Don't touch him," He snarled at the female Andorian whose hand was resting on Spock's arm. At least, he was quite sure she was female; she had delicate features and long hair. Then again, Andorians had, like, four sexes.

They were currently outside the hangar of the shuttle bay in the Andoria moon, waiting to purchase the equipment necessary to perform a few basic motor repairs until they could get back to Earth. It had been a terrible, trying mission and Jim was currently covered in grime, sweat, dirt and a speck or two of his own blood, because he'd rushed down to Engineering in a last ditched effort to save his ship before they blew themselves up due to engine damage. Thanks to the little patch-up work Scotty and his team had done, they'd more or less crash-landed in the Andorian Empire, finally safe and able to breathe easy.

The crew were given twenty-four hours of shore leave and asked to report back to the ship the next day, but Jim had been worried about his first officer in the middle of a very busy terminal swarming with techs, passengers and Andorian females (and males too). Especially since he had the nagging suspicion that, amidst the chaos that the past month had become, Jim had never seen Spock stop to rest once, let alone to sleep. Yes, he needed less sleep than Humans, but he eventually needed _some_.

So he had followed the Vulcan immediately when he'd realised Spock appeared to be going alone, looking tense and withdrawn and a lot like he could use the company (Jim had thought so, anyway).

However, the second he and Spock stepped outside together this woman had _accosted_ them, fixating on the unsuspecting commander like a goddamn leech and not letting go.

"Don't touch him."

"Why not?" She asked, looking startled and offended, but not yet afraid. Give her a minute, Jim thought savagely.

"Don't you know about Vulcans and touch telepathy? Let go of his arm." His voice sounded kind of frightening, Jim thought in the detached sort of way fitting of a crazy person, and tried not to follow the last sentence with a thinly veiled threat. Or screw the veil, a proper, real threat worthy of the Andorian's stupidity.

"Excuse me?" She said, eyes wide.

"I think you heard me fine. Back off."

Spock's expression was completely indecipherable throughout this scene, but Jim found he didn't quite care what the consequences might be; he was feeling angry and reckless and after a month of stress, panic and sleep-deprivation, he was unable to control his impulse to protect his first officer.

Because the irrationality screamed in his very veins that this was right, that no one else was allowed to bother Spock, to try and make Spock react, or smile, or touch or look at or even think of Spock.

That _else_ in 'no one else' barely registered in Jim's currently fried excuse for a brain, and since he really didn't feel up to having deep, important thoughts at the time, he let it pass. One weird Freudian slip didn't matter.

Like it didn't matter that they were docked at an _Andorian_ port, and that maybe he shouldn't antagonise a member of the species they were depending on to get out of here. Nothing mattered except that, right now, he could only think of one word and it was with a fierce, feral anger that he turned to the woman once more.

"You're making him uncomfortable," Jim pointed out through gritted teeth, _trying_ to sound minimally sane. It was not a very successful attempt, though, even he could tell.

She smirked. "Oh, I don't think _I_ 'm the one doing that."

Jim had expected her to cower before the force of his wrath a few possessive growls ago, so he was momentarily derailed as he took in the fact that maybe, just maybe, he was the one being unreasonable here.

Oh well, too bad he didn't care.

"I'm the Captain of this Starfleet vessel…" he motioned to the massive form of the Enterprise flooded by light, clearly visible through the windows of the docking bay "…and the man you are currently molesting with your ridiculous groping…" um, so that _may_ have been a slight exaggeration, since she was barely brushing Spock's (amazing) bicep with a few fingers. But _technicalities_ were among the long list of Things That Don't Matter Because All That Matters Is That Spock Is Being Attacked And I Must Save Him. "… is my first officer."

The Andorian actually had the nerve to _laugh_. It was a tinkling, annoying sound that made her big eyes shine and dimples appear on her smooth blue skin and Jim realise she was extremely beautiful, which only made him angrier, for some weird messed-up reason he could honestly not care less about.

When she spoke next, her antennae were pointed toward him.

"Well, _Captain_." The hand was still on Spock's arm, and Jim knew it was going to drive him slowly and purposefully off the edge of sanity. "I think before accusing me of _molesting_ your first officer you might want to know that my name is Dr Nastchyla Zhthas and I'm a xenobiologist specialising in the humanoid species, specifically the Vulcan race. You can call me Yla, though, Captain." She kept calling him that. It was _annoying_.

"As you must know, Captain, Vulcan telepathy can occur through touch, but unless we're talking about a mind-meld, usually only if the individuals have a strong mental bond. I met the charming Mr Spock five minutes ago."

_Then why won't you get your fucking hands off of him_.

Maybe she wanted to give Jim an ulcer. She'd get her wish if she kept this up.

"It can also happen without touching, but it's true that skin-on-skin contact makes it easier. However, not only do I hardly know Mr Spock, but your first officer is wearing a shirt, as am I." Jim wasn't, but he felt that was somewhat _beside_ the point. It had been ripped to shreds anyway. "So… would it be safe to assume your request is more, ah, _personal_ in nature since I'm quite sure Mr Spock himself would be able to tell me if he wanted me to stop touching him?"

Jim gaped for a few moments, unable to speak.

"Captain?"

He wouldn't deign to answer her, he decided finally; trying not to hit her was effort enough.

"Is it safe to say you're acting like an immature five-year-old, Captain?"

Jim suppressed the urge to say ' _You're_ the immature five-year-old. Now give me back my favourite _toy_.' And instead settled for fuming in silence while trying to see through the Furious Red Haze of Doom clouding his thoughts and apparently causing random Andorian women to call him immature. Or maybe that should be _Green_ Haze of Doom, he was a little hazy on the details.

Heh. Hazy on the haze.

"Jim."

Finally Spock said _something_ (which was Jim's name, which was… kind of nice), his voice calm and perfectly collected as always, none of which Jim felt like at this particular moment.

(Also, _how_ was Spock not covered in a speck of dirt or debris? How? The man could fall into a dumpster, roll around mud, get his clothes ripped to shreds… and… uh, what was the question? Oh yes, he could _do all that_ and still somehow pull off looking elegant and cool.

Right now he wore the black uniform undershirt which suited him ridiculously well, with black pants and boots. All clean and pristine like he just came out of the shower.)

"She is not familiar with my personal preferences, and I am the one to blame for not informing her."

The woman, Yla, looked at Spock, then back at Jim, then sighed dramatically and removed her hand.

_Finally_.

Jim felt a tight knot in his chest loosen slightly, and took a deep breath. It felt nice, so he took another one, and let himself calm down. Wow. He'd almost overreacted there for a second.

"Listen, Captain," Yla said with a sigh. "I just came over to talk to you because your Mr Spock was exhibiting a Human symptom that possibly signalled…" but here she hesitated, and Spock looked sharply at her and shook his head. "…ah, possibly signalled something was wrong with him, like an illness, so I just wanted to make sure he was all right. Like I said, as a specialist I am quite familiar with his species, so the symptom concerned me. But then he told me his mother was Human, which makes sense and explains what I saw, so that's that, okay? Please calm down."

Jim felt suddenly that his concern for Spock seemed to dissipate the Red Haze very quickly.

" _What_? But how could you tell Spock wasn't being a hundred percent Vulcan? Usually no one can see the difference." Except Jim, but for some reason he didn't want to tell her how carefully he'd observed Spock. As compared to other beings of his species, of course.

"It was something very small and very simple that I only saw by chance on my way to my ship."

"What was it? What did you see?" Jim turned to face Spock. "What un-Vulcan thing did you do?"

It was Yla who answered, although her voice was soft and she watched Spock's face carefully . "Just… a twitch. Common enough among Humans, Captain. His hand moved in an unthinking, eh, impulse, as though reaching out to… and he realised what he was doing and stopped it."

It is necessary at this time to remember Jim's state of mind while the doctor spoke, and for obvious reason the significance of what she was actually _saying_ didn't register.

"But that's extremely rare in Vulcans, to make involuntary gestures, even for a second with such a small movement. Usually erratic behaviour signals a time of… a time when-"

"But in my case it is because of my Human heritage, and most likely the fact that we have been through a difficult month and I have not yet rested," Spock interjected quickly.

"Right. Exactly," Yla said.

Jim's Red Haze Of Doom had vanished, but an Ugly Dark Mood settled over him instead. They were _lying_ to his _face_. Both of them. Together, against him.

"Oh, I see."

Spock seemed almost… uncomfortable. At least he immediately realised Jim saw right through their bullshit. "Jim, I am sorry. I cannot explain this at the moment."

Jim shrugged, trying to shake off his Dark Mood. Well, Spock didn't have to tell him every single thing about his life. No matter how much Jim might want that. Um.

"O-kaay then, I'm gonna _go_. My ship leaves in half an hour, anyway," Yla said loudly. "It was nice meeting you, Mr Spock. Good luck."

"Likewise, and thank you for your concern, however unnecessary," Spock said politely.

"No problem, it's just that we're so far from Vulcan now." She shot Spock a serene smile he didn't return, but he did nod to her in acknowledgement.

"Bye Captain." Her cheerful little wave was totally on purpose, just to annoy Jim, he was sure of it. So he didn't answer, instead gave a manly sort of grunt and a nod which apparently made her giggle for some reason.

What _ever_.

"Phew. You're _welcome_ , man," Jim said magnanimously the second Yla was out of earshot, and hoped All The Weird Feelings Between Jim And Spock left with her.

He then clapped Spock's shoulder in a very macho, 'bros before hoes' way (yeah, he was nervous and jittery and tired and jealous of a _blue person_ ), as though he hadn't just gone pretty bat-shit crazy over a woman touching Spock completely innocently and without an ulterior, evil purpose.

And before there's any confusion, Jim was allowed to touch Spock once in a while, okay? Spock himself had said so, that one time right after Jim had saved his life. Yeah… that had been a _weird_ conversation with _many_ misunderstandings, now that he thought about it.

Spock raised both eyebrows. Never a great sign.

Oops.

"Jim, perhaps your reaction was somewhat more forceful than the situation required," He pointed out reasonably.

"What? You needed my help!"

"It was not necessary. Dr Yla is an intelligent, competent woman and your behaviour toward her seemed unworthy of the excellent Starfleet Captain you usually are."

It was like a slap. Like Spock had just slapped him. Hard. _Vulcan_ hard.

He'd been doing Spock a _favour_. All of this had been for Spock _anyway_. In fact, lately, it seemed like _everything_ he did was for Commander bloody Spock, and did he get a single thank you? Did Spock throw himself at Jim's arms (whoa, weird image) and sob his eternal devotion to his Captain for ever and ever (um… no comment)? Did Spock even _react_?

No! Spock said Jim's reaction was an _overreaction_ , like Spock had _wanted_ that woman to touch him.

"Oh yeah? Maybe you'd like her to come back? Touch you some more?"

Spock stiffened and Jim felt cruel triumph clench his chest uncomfortably again.

"Maybe you want skin-on-skin, eh, Spock? It's been like, months since Uhura broke up with you, hasn't it? I figure you Vulcans must think one night stands aren't exactly logical… is that why you didn't even tell your doctor lady you wanted her to back off? Because you _didn't_ want her to?"

"Jim, I suggest you cease this ridiculous, illogical-"

Jim laughed; a strange, hollow sound which nevertheless got something, finally, a reaction. Spock took another step toward him, an angry step, and a part of Jim that didn't understand he was _furious_ with Spock was calling to the Vulcan to come even closer… much, much closer…

"No, it's okay man, I got rid of her for you, I can call her back if that's what you want."

And he also took a step forward, crossing the invisible line of personal space with a rush of pleasure that was like _sex_ , because it wasn't _allowed_ and he was doing it _anyway_. It had been so long since Jim had broken any rules, so very long since…

"Is that what you want?" He murmured defiantly.

He was only dimly aware of the fact that he'd lost his head completely.

"Spock?"

An iron grip around his wrist suddenly shackled him in place. Jim looked directly into Spock's dark, hot eyes and felt his lips slowly part. He licked them unconsciously and Spock tugged harder at his wrist, forcing Jim backwards, away.

"Spock? Aren't you gonna answer me?"

Passers-by look away from the scene immediately, either scandalised or embarrassed because even though technically the two men weren't even holding hands, there was a contained intensity in their interaction that made watching them feel intrusive and wrong.

"Your ramblings are incoherent to me. I do not find a logical answer to them viable."

"So I'm _crazy_ now?"

"No, Jim. You are acting 'crazy'. Possibly due to sleep deprivation."

Jim had no response to this, so he tried to take back his hand, thank you very much, but Spock's hold was unforgiving. "Let _go_ of my _wrist_ ," He muttered.

"I will not."

" _Why_?"

Spock then gripped his other wrist and held him strongly until Jim stopped struggling.

"We must discuss this away from the public eye."

" _What_?"

But Spock was apparently done with explanations for the moment, and he pulled Jim down the corridor, which admittedly _was_ crowded, now that he looked around and realised there were more people in the universe than just him and Spock, and most of those people were shooting really weird glances their way. Like they thought Spock wasn't dragging Jim away to kill him but, instead, to do some other, much more pleasurable activities. Also, Jim was still shirtless, so that definitely didn't help.

"Spock!" Jim hissed. "Have you gone completely insane? Let me go, dammit!"

They "walked" like this for a pretty long time until Spock found a supply closet (good _Lord_ ) and shoved Jim inside, the motion sensors triggering the light switch so they were bathed in glaring fluorescence.

Jim looked around them for a second and realised that it was a tiny rectangular space filled with medical supplies stacked on shelves.

"Spock I swear I'm losing my patience, fast."

"I was not aware there existed an initial supply of it," Spock said coolly.

By now Jim was starting to feel pretty pissed.

"Let me out, Spock."

He couldn't believe he'd been _kidnapped_ by _Spock_.

"No."

"Oh come on. This is getting really stupid, okay?" When Jim tried to move past him, however, his wrist was once again captured by Spock's hand. "Spock!"

He tried to pull away and that got him, once again, shackled. Huh. Not a good word, that.

"Okay, I'm stopping now, all right? Look." Jim let his hands go limp, and the second Spock's grip loosened he spun around in a self-defence move designed so that the other man had to either break his bones or let him go.

It was very fast and it caught Spock by surprise, apparently, but the Vulcan didn't understand that he only had _two_ options here, dammit, because he didn't release Jim or, fortunately, break his wrists (although there'd definitely be bruises there tomorrow). Instead, Spock countered his move with one of his own, and twisted their limbs using Jim's force and momentum against him, so Jim was now encased in Spock's strong arms, his back slammed against Spock's chest.

And that was more or less when it hit him.

Jim's stomach lurched and he realised, in a rush which left him dizzy, that he was keeping himself from doing something… inappropriate, to say the least. Like turning around so he was pressing his naked torso against Spock's clean undershirt, and letting his hips align with Spock's, the tight black pants they both wore tight enough, that Spock would feel _everything_ , and then he'd pin him down and kiss him, a clash of teeth and lips and sweat and dirt that would make Spock melt under his touch, and then Jim would _own_ him, and Spock would shout his name and Jim would say, "You're mine".

He bit the inside of his cheek so hard it started to bleed. He was glad of the pain.

"Cease your struggling," Spock breathed into his ear, then pushed him away. His breath was so warm, yet it made Jim shiver and he felt the skin of his neck flush. He suddenly wanted to be alone so he could _think_ or sulk or maybe punch something. Hard. Really, really hard.

"Okay, Spock. Okay, let's just… calm down, here."

Spock nodded. "I agree."

Jim took a deep breath and leaned back against one of the shelves.

They were silent for an entire minute, until suddenly the light vanished. They'd been standing too still and he motion sensors hadn't detected any movement.

Jim waved a hand in the air and they switched back on.

"So… what did it mean? That twitch the woman saw?"

Spock immediately closed off, his expression utterly blank.

Jim sighed. "Spock, come on."

"I have told you, it can be explained because I am part Human."

"Then what did she _think_ it meant?"

"Why is that relevant?"

"Because I want to know."

Eyebrow.

"Because I don't like that you're hiding stuff from me."

Other eyebrow.

"Because she knows and I don't and I… _hate_ that!" He exploded finally.

Spock stared at him for a very long moment.

"I see," He said finally, very carefully.

"Please." Jim felt the sharp lights bright in his eyes, and knew they were throwing his desperate expression into perfect relief, but he didn't care. "Please, Spock."

"Pon Farr. She believed I was going through Pon Farr," Spock said immediately, then seemed taken aback at himself for answering.

"What's that?" Jim pressed.

"The Vulcan reproductive cycle. Some of it's side-effects include erratic or unusually emotional behaviour."

Jim blinked. It was hard to imagine Vulcans behaving very emotionally. It was also hard to imagine them reproducing, but that was a whole other issue.

Spock misinterpreted his expression and clarified: " _Human_ behaviour."

"Yeah, yeah I got it."

"It was a simple gesture, Jim, a meaningless one."

Just like this sentence, thought Jim. Except that neither of them were meaningless at all.

He tried to recreate the scene in his mind: he remembered walking through the door talking with Spock about where they'd crash and grinning when Spock suggested the Enterprise herself because that had been Jim's first thought too, but he wanted the techs to move around comfortably so he'd said 'I think it would be healthy for us to find a hotel' and Spock had said 'You wish to sleep together?' and he'd burst out laughing and then the Andorian woman had said 'Excuse me!' and that had been the end of that.

He tried to add the gesture the Yla had described into his memory: Spock's hand involuntarily reaching out toward… toward what?

Toward him?

Suddenly the urge to wrap his arms around Spock made him clench his fists by his sides.

"So are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Going through… Pon Farr?"

"No, Jim. I am much too young."

"Pity."

What?

"What?"

" _What_?" Jim shook his head vigorously. "I… uh… don't know where that came from. I was kidding. Sorry. Bad joke. Ha ha."

Spock looked very confused, but didn't press the matter.

"Okay then, _great_." Jim clapped his hands. "It was a misunderstanding. Good. So now that that's all resolved and well, what do you say we get some _sleep_ , it's been like, weeks!" He tried to sound cheerful as he moved to leave the small enclosed space in which he was half-naked and Spock looked very appetizing and mouth-watering in black, but it didn't work, as he'd known it wouldn't.

"One moment, please," Spock said, this time simply putting two fingers on Jim's arm to stop him. Warm fingers. Okay he had to stop that thought now.

"What?"

"Will you explain your disproportionate response to Dr Yla's behaviour?"

Jim bristled. "What do you mean?"

"I believe you have already understood my meaning, Jim."

"I was helping you."

"I believe I could have… 'helped myself'."

Jim snorted. "I don't think it was disproportionate."

"I think you do."

"Nope. I'm sorry I interfered with your _flirting_ , it just didn't look like you were into her and I though, hey, let's help poor Spock out, so I-"

"Stop lying, Jim," Spock said warningly, his eyes burning Jim's skin, exposed and vulnerable as he was, in here.

"I'm not." But his tone said otherwise and he heard it and he held up his hand. "Okay, yes I am."

Spock nodded.

"I just…" got into a fit of possessive rage? Couldn't bear to think of anyone's hands on you that weren't mine? Couldn't stop the Red Haze of Doom from turning me into a Caveman With Issues?

"I just…"

He stood there, mouthing like a goldfish, unable to explain. Unable to say it. How could they come back from this? How would they work together if Spock knew?

"I… Spock, I…"

No. He couldn't.

The lights went out.

In the pitch dark, Spock said: "Jim, if you do not tell me I will not let you go."

Then the lights flickered on again.

Jim groaned, and closed his eyes. Therefore he missed Spock's reaction to this.

"How did I end up here?" He asked the ceiling.

"I believe it all began when our ship docked at the port and-"

"I didn't mean _remind_ me. Just… oh, forget it. I can't believe I'm about to tell you this. I can't believe this is what I'm going to say. I can't even believe _what_ I'm about to say."

Spock just waited.

"Okay, here goes."

"Thank you."

"You're wel- uh, it's not really… okay." He took a deep breath. "Okay, so here's the thing. Sometimes… um, Humans can't completely control their emotions, as you know."

"Of course. Sometimes not even Vulcans can," Spock said, a faraway look in his eyes. Jim's fingers unconsciously brushed his throat.

"Right." Their eyes met briefly and then quickly looked away. "Well, that's what happened to me before."

"I do not understand."

"I couldn't control… my emotions."

"Why not?"

"I didn't like her touching you, so I went a little crazy."

"But why?"

Normally Spock would have elaborated or specified the question, but not this time. This time he stared at Jim with something akin to… eagerness.

"Because I just, generally don't like people touching you."

"Why?" Spock said yet again.

Jim sagged against the shelves behind him, feeling defeated.

"Because I… I'm the only one."

He said it very, very softly, but of course Spock heard.

"Explain," Spock demanded, moving closer, his gaze intent.

"I'm the only one who's allowed," Jim said to Spock's chest, because he couldn't look up into those eyes, not yet.

"To touch me."

" _Yes_."

It felt a little like relief, to say it out loud.

"You felt… anger?"

He nodded.

"Anger toward the woman."

"Yeah. Because I'm the only one who's allowed to touch you. Just me. No one else." His voice gained volume and he let it.

"You wanted to touch me?" Spock asked, his voice rough.

"Yeah."

"You felt jealous?" They were standing too close. Much too close, with Spock looming over Jim like that, it was too much.

"Yes."

Jim looked up, finally locking their gazes and feeling the want uncurl in his chest, tighten his pants and make his breathing fast and shallow.

" _Yes_. Because you're mine."

Spock's mouth was slightly open.

"Yours."

" _Mine_."

And he pushed himself off the shelf and put one hand around Spock's neck and with the other yanked an ear and then he was kissing Spock rough and hard as if, by marking him like this, he might erase every trace of anyone else that had ever kissed Spock before, so that it was all completely, and _only_ Jim's.

He hadn't expected Spock to return the gesture with such enthusiasm.

It was a little brutal between them at first, this hunger, this desire to consume the other, to fight for control that was slipping away and they knew it, and Jim knew there would be bruises to show for this tomorrow, but he couldn't care less, because it was insane how _good_ it was, how _right_.

He felt very hot, hot fingers raking his back and thought it was rather unfair that Spock still wore his shirt, but he really didn't want to stop kissing him, so he blindly fisted his hands around the fabric and pulled until the material stretched taunt and finally ripped apart.

There was a very hot, hot groan against his mouth and Spock's hips rocked against his, oh boy, creating a friction that sent crackling jolts along his spine.

Then Spock drew away from the kiss, enough to lower his lips onto Jim's neck, which made Jim's head loll in pleasure, and he wrapped a hand around one of the iron bars of the shelf they were pressed up against because otherwise he'd fall down _completely_.

"I have been thinking about doing this since you first approached me today," Spock murmured against Jim's skin, and his tongue felt like it was touching Jim's nerves directly, they sparked and fizzed and _craved_.

"Licking my neck?" Jim asked, his voice strangled.

"Tasting your sweat," Spock growled, just as Jim's knees buckled and he was slammed against the shelf again with a satisfying crash, thoughts too incoherent to form words, lost in the haze of heat for Spock, thirst for Spock, want, want, _want_.

His hands sank into Spock's hair, tugging closer, want more, need more, more, _more_. He pulled him up again, because Spock tasted alien and warm and special, and his tongue was sliding with Jim's and Jim couldn't help the sounds his throat was producing all on it's own; he moaned into Spock's mouth, low, guttural moans.

Then Spock took one of Jim's hands and their fingers entwined and that got a very low, dangerous rumble that sounded like Spock losing it and also like he'd love to hear it again, please. So Jim brought the hand to his lips and licked the palm and then put one finger in his mouth, and nipped it slightly with his teeth and Spock clawed at Jim's arm with his free hand, eyes wide and mouth open in a wordless cry, staring at Jim with shock and surprise and darkness, darkness that devoured Jim alive.

"Well," Jim panted, grinning manically. "This is… interesting."

Spock's other hand rested on Jim's hip, and Jim's blood sang and boiled and when Spock's hand slipped into Jim's pants he couldn't help the jolt that shot through his body and he threw his head back and bit his lip to try and stop the-

"No," Spock said, and for a moment it felt like slow motion, like stopping, as Spock took Jim's face in both his hands, looking deep into his eyes. He sounded a little vulnerable, a little scared of his own daring when he next said: "Do not… hide. I want to hear."

Jim couldn't speak.

"I want to hear everything," Spock whispered, his warm breath ghosting over Jim's mouth, hesitant and questioning, like he wasn't sure it was okay to say this, like maybe it was forbidden.

Jim felt slightly off balance for a few seconds, and clutched Spock's arms for support. The emotion welling up inside of him was to be carefully thought about later. Not right now.

Then he kissed Spock deeply, and unknowingly smiled his most dazzling, most intense smile yet.

"Okay then," He said boldly, nodding like he was accepting a challenge, and then proceeded to shove Spock back against the other side of the closet (it really was a very small space) and explore Spock's naked chest, and the little green marks that appeared where Jim bit softly into the skin.

His fingers slipped under the straining fabric of Spock's pants and he caressed slowly and teasingly up and down, all the while looking intently at Spock's face because he was transfixed by the expressions chasing themselves across his angled features.

When his nails softly brushed the tender skin Spock made an impatient little sound Jim could very much fall in love with, so he said sweetly. "More?" And squeezed a little harder, but not hard enough, he knew.

"P-Please," Spock panted, eyes wide.

"Like this?" Suddenly Jim jerked and twisted, and Spock slammed his palm against the wall behind them and it _cracked_. Jim laughed a wild, free laugh and said. "I'll take that as a yes."

He felt Spock's hands sink smoothly into his hair, tugging and gripping for support, and that idea made him much happier than was probably normal or sane, but he only smirked and got down on his knees.

He'd never be able to look at those black uniform pants the same way every again, Jim decided firmly as he bit the fold just over Spock's hip and dragged them down, eyes wide and wanting. It was Spock's turn to slump against the shelf, fingers digging into it so hard he carved deep groves in the metal.

Jim thought that was incredibly hot, of course.

"You look surprised, Spock." He hadn't meant to say 'surprised', but somehow that was what came out, and it was true; Spock looked very overwhelmed, in a good way of course, but nevertheless like he was finding the whole experience… new.

"I was not aware of… that this could _feel…_ so… that I…"

He stopped talking when Jim's tongue began at his tip and slowly, teasingly, trailed down. It was a very _long_ way down, and there was an obscene smile on Jim's lips as he realised this.

Then Spock bit his fist.

Bit. His. Fist.

_Bit_ it.

Jim had to take a second to register that, then commit the sight to memory so he'd never, ever forget the time when he was most turned on in his life.

"Is it okay if I keep doing this?" He asked cautiously, just in case.

"It is _imperative_ you keep doing this," Spock replied immediately, his voice ragged.

"Good, 'cause stopping now would have been a tad difficult," Jim said, lips curving in a sarcastic smile.

Spock swallowed. "Yes, it-"

And that was when Jim took him in his mouth in one.

Spock jerked and there was the sound of stuff breaking and raining down from the shelves, they'd have to put it back after, but Jim didn't care, instead he kept a smooth, fast rhythm because he could feel Spock trying to keep himself from thrusting forward too hard, and he could hear Spock's little noises of pleasure and panic and ecstasy and fear.

The fingers buried in his hair convulsed and scraped his scalp and through the haze of heat and desire clouding his mind Jim knew he had to keep it together no matter how _hard_ it was.

The moment Spock came the thought that passed through Jim's head was of love, and he nearly went with him.

And then he thought… _mine_.

Mine, mine, mine and only mine. No one else gets to see him like this, unravelled, boneless, satisfied, only me, only I do this to him.

Spock actually fell to the floor, pushing Jim down with him and then holding himself up with his arms at either side of Jim's head. He was breathing deeply and blinking in utter astonishment, as though still reeling from his own amazement at what had happened, and Jim kissed him with his mouth tasting like Spock's come.

For a few moments they stayed like this, and he was imprisoned in Spock's arms once again, Jim thought wryly. Well, it was something he could get used to.

And it was then that Jim decided he needed to see the expression on Spock's face after he came at least once a day to survive and live, because it was so peaceful and beautiful and fierce and also… loving?

But then Spock's hand pulled down his pants in a quick, impatient movement and he only held himself up on top of Jim with one arm, which was kind of sexy hot because Spock was really, really strong, and his scorching fingers were around Jim's erection, and Jim gave a sort of loud grunt and bucked.

"I do not… know…" Spock said with difficulty, his whole body shaking slightly, and Jim didn't know if it was the aftershocks or nerves or (probably) both. "I want to see your eyes. I want to see how you look, and I am not…"

"This works pretty well too, Spock," Jim choked out. They could do the other thing another time, right? God, he hoped so. He hoped this was a beginning.

"But…"

"Please, do it, now, please." Jim didn't want to beg and plead, but he would, he totally would, because he was _so_ ready for this, right now. "Spock, _please_."

Spock settled himself so their faces were very close, their noses gently touching, and then he kissed Jim with an infinite tenderness that had nothing to do with the violent fury of their embrace before.

And then his hand pumped and twisted and gripped hard and knew just exactly what Jim needed, up and down, fast, yes, yes, _yes_ …

And then Spock smiled.

Jim came with a sound that was almost like a laugh. He felt himself erupt and explode and for a second it was so powerful he was blinded, and he clutched Spock like an anchor and gasped for breath.

Then his whole body melted and relaxed, carefree, and sunk completely onto the floor and tugged Spock down on top of him, feeling the heavy weight of Spock's body over his and liking it a _lot_.

They didn't move or speak after that for a very long time, and Jim actually slept, dreamless, for a few minutes. He woke finally because Spock was nuzzling his neck, and he relished the feeling and drew him closer, putting his arms around the Vulcan, and _now_ who's imprisoned in whose arms, eh?

"Jim," Spock said against his throat.

"Yes?"

Spock blinked. Jim felt this because his lashes swept along his jaw, feather-light.

"There was no purpose to my speech. I merely wanted to say your name."

Jim was smiling so wide it hurt.

"That's illogical, Spock."

Spock smiled too, very secretly, very faintly.

After a few more minutes of silent contentment, Jim managed to tear his eyes from his first officer's form and look around.

"So… we trashed the place," he commented lightly.

"Indeed." Spock nodded, but that wasn't the way to go because Jim's body was acutely aware of how Spock's hair was messy and smooth and tickling Jim's spine. He extricated himself a little and looked into Spock's eyes.

The emotion there completely stunned him.

Spock reached out a hand and stroke Jim's cheek. "T'hy'la," He said, and it was without solemnity, without even much seriousness. He just said it almost casually, like it was something he called Jim all the time, something familiar and comfortable and matter-of-fact.

Jim exhaled. "What does that mean?"

Spock opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. Then he gave another small smile, and Jim felt a thrill shoot through him. "Jim, the feeling you experience when you say I am yours…"

Jim nodded.

"… it is… a combination of many factors, is it not?"

"Yeah." He propped himself up on his elbows and tried to express himself as well as he knew. "It's like… possessive, and stupid and too demanding, but at the same time it's more than friend, it means closer than… than a brother, it has strength and joy and…" he only hesitated for an instant. "… and love. I mean, that's how I think about it. Not… I mean, you only belong to yourself, of course. You're free, I just… also think part of me… and part of you… are together."

Spock nodded. Jim stopped breathing.

"That is what the word represents."

"Really?"

"Yes. Friend, brother, lover. That feeling… that is what it means."

Jim suddenly couldn't hold it in anymore and he threw himself onto Spock and rolled them over, so he was flattening Spock onto the floor, straddling him. " _Man_ , I love you!" He said loudly and triumphantly. A conqueror, a champion, a winner.

Spock clearly hadn't expected the sudden outburst, but his arms tightened around Jim's hips immediately and his gaze became piercing and strong. "I love you too, Jim."

"This is _awesome_."

Spock smiled again, a tiny curve of lips. Jim swooped down and kissed him.

"We should find a hotel or something. And a room. A proper one, with a bed."

The damage wasn't as terrible as it could have been; Spock had knocked down a couple of boxes and Jim had rolled over a crate that had spilled it's contents onto the floor, but they carefully put everything back like good little boys and got more or less dressed.

Then they looked at each other and silently decided they needed to steal two sets of scrub shirts (the green one for Spock and a light blue one for Jim) because people were definitely going to suspect something if they emerged in their current state: shirtless, sweaty, satisfied, glowing. Because there was glowing involved, oh yes. Happy, trippy, blissful glowing.

Oh and also, Spock had this amazing purple-green bruise on his chest where Jim had sucked it before, and while it was tempting to let people see that this was James T. Kirk territory and no one else was to breach it, it might be a bad idea for a Starfleet Captain and his first officer to be seen like this in public.

"I feel bad about wearing the blue," Jim teased once they'd put the scrubs on. "It's your colour, after all. I wish they made golden scrubs!"

"This blue is extremely similar to the colour of your irises," Spock said by way of explanation. "Not the same, but then again I have as of yet been unable to find anything that the bears the exact, vibrant shade you own, Jim."

Jim couldn't think of anything as amazing to say back, so he kissed Spock again, trying to convey his incredible happiness by touch alone. The response he got made him fairly certain the point got across, and when they broke apart Jim realised that Spock's scent still clung to his skin, which made him grin delightedly.

"We should go now," Spock said, trying to sound calm.

Jim admired his efforts, really.

They opened the door in perfect synchrony, and walked out to live happily ever after.

And this concludes the story of how Dr McCoy, on his way to get medical supplies, found them coming out of a closet and realised what had happened.

" _Goddamit_ Jim, I'll be scarred for life!"


End file.
